


Naked

by angelkat



Series: The Wee Compendium of Sweet Ginger [8]
Category: The Adventures of Puss in Boots (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21806203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkat/pseuds/angelkat
Summary: In which Puss asks Dulcinea why she wears clothes.
Relationships: Puss/Dulcinea
Series: The Wee Compendium of Sweet Ginger [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571299
Kudos: 6





	Naked

"Why do you wear clothes?"

He knew by how she instantly froze mid-flip of the page of her book that he should have just kept his stupid mouth shut.

"Um...I...I don't know?" Her voice wavered. She uncertainly put down the page so it met with its other friends. Then she turned her eyes to him.

"Why don't _you?_ "

Good question.

"Ah..."

She ( _adorably_ , Puss noted, right before instantly shooting the intrusive thought down to hell) cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "Why do you ask, by the way?"

"E-Erm..." He stood there uncomfortably, left wondering how the tables have been so dramatically swivelled so that _he_ was suddenly the one being interrogated for answers. He scratched at the back of his neck and was fiercely trying his best to look at absolutely anywhere but her probing eyes. Darn it. Why did her eyes have to…be _so_...

"I, er. Simply find it strange, that is all."

"Huh? But…”

Her brow creased.

“Why?"

How she managed to pack so much innocence and commanding interrogation in that one simple word, he knew that he would never know.

"Eh…it is just that..." He really very _really_ should have just kept his mouth shut. "I have met other female cats. Other male cats as well," he added quickly, when Dulcinea's eyes widened a tad. He made a mental note to gloat on it later, because now the embarrassment he was feeling left no room for taking pride in the possibility that Dulcinea actually can feel jealous because of him. "And it is not like as felines, we...have anything to hide. Like the humans...do..."

Felina. He had no idea why he did not think this through. He had simply barged into the nearly empty classroom like the utter disgrace he was and blurted out the question like he had lost his mind. To be fair though, it _had_ been plaguing him for days now, and if he did not find a way to satiate his curiosity, well.

He would lose his head.

"I don't have anything to hide," she said, breaking their awkward moment of silence.

_Huh?_

"You—you...do _not?_ "

Then he thought, of course she does not, you floundering hypocrite, you of all cats KNOW the female feline anatomy better than anyone.

"Why bother with the clothing, then...?"

He kicked himself for attaching that completely unnecessary follow-up question. _Why?_ Really? He was asking a woman _why_ she wore how she liked to wear herself? That was none of his business! Really, he should have thought that it was none of his business from the very beginning. Had the gentlemanliness he was so notorious for been singlehandedly dissolved into oblivion by his morbid _curiosity_ on a woman's clothing?

Perhaps he completely forgot that it was a lady he was talking to here?

Had he no _shame?_

Before he continued on mentally booting his own arse for even initiating this stupid conversation, Dulcinea said, "Well, I guess...living here my whole life, without any interaction with the outside world…or any other cat, for that matter…I thought that wearing clothes was the normal thing to do. So I began to sew up dresses, to...fit in. Señora Zapata," she placed her book on the desktop near her and jumped from her chair so she could twirl around in place, letting her dress balloon out a little. "She helped me create this one I'm wearing. I was the one who designed it." Her eyes were glittering blue when she looked up to meet his. "Do you like it?"

It took him exactly three point five seconds flat before he snapped out of his daze and realized that she was expecting an answer out of him. "D-Do _I_ like it, you asked me?"

She blinked. "Yes?"

"Ah..." He ran a paw through the fur on his upper left arm and looked the other way. "Of course I like it. Why would you think I..."

"You said you find it strange."

He winced. That one was completely his fault. She caught him right in the middle of the trap he made for himself.

How stupid.

"...Do you wish to see me unclothed?"

 _What?_ "N-no!" his mouth blurted, against the very rebellious _yesyesyesyesyes_ chanting of his brain. (It seemed as if for all his scorning of most of humankind as disrespectful degenerates, male brains worked the same way regardless of species.)

"Why not? Like you..." He was looking down at her boots until the lilac silk just slid down her body to form a blossom-like pile on the floor and he _knew_ he was eternally grateful for the fact that he had his ginger fur to hide the deplorable blush he felt was spreading on his face from her.

"I have nothing to hide."

He raised his head so his eyes grazed her body from her boots to her torso to finally, her eyes.

And that was when he saw it. Truly.

He saw how strong she was. How her beauty lied in simplicity. He saw how her naivety was not of gullibility but of grace, her innocence not of ignorance but of choice—of choice to see the world in light. He saw how he paled against her in a match of strength, not in physicality but in self-belief, and that her courage rivalled his, not in terms of recklessly charging towards a bull but in terms of setting one’s soul free instead of locked up in a rib cage to forever hide oneself for fear of rejection. That was because she had no such fear, perhaps her purity allowed for no such stain, and suddenly, upon that realization he felt a deep, profound sensation within him roil—the desire to protect her and keep her this way, to keep her from the outside world and the outside world’s evil eyes, even though he knew she must be strong enough to protect herself. She wore her heart on her sleeve, fearless of judgment and undaunted by probing eyes, and even if someone committed against her a slight, she would accept them, she would embrace them, this was simply how she was. Whereas everyone would push everyone away believing the world was a dangerous place and that trust was a hard thing to earn, Dulcinea, Dulcinea would give away herself to literally every person she’d meet even on a marketplace crawling with thieves, believing that exposing her vulnerabilities was what made her strong. She was a flower that has broken her chains off the jacaranda tree and danced along the wind, unafraid of freedom and to selflessly sow the gift of the fragrance of her life. Of life.

He knew he had no right to and Felina please forgive him for being inappropriately avaricious, but it was innate in him to feel, at that moment, possessive and protective of this woman who had probably not even yet realized her own beauty. Possessive because he knew he needed someone to teach him how to be like this, to be fearless, and that he was absolutely certain he would never meet another diamond as sharply polished as she was; protective because he knew that beauty like this could not be resisted by eyes wishing nothing upon her but dirt, because he knew she would be something thieves and prurient men and all manner of degenerates would think to philander, far more valuable as she was than a thousand chests of gold and pearl and jewel.

He knew at that moment that he would do everything, absolutely everything…to keep her this way.

"I have seen enough." And indeed he has. In truth, he had many women—and on occasion, men—boldly undress before him, in the metaphorical sense, but Dulcinea…it threw him off, completely, that she would do this not out of the selfishness of desire but of simple generosity. The women he had met back in the past would not have missed this opportunity to try something on him afterward, but she...she simply stood there. Graceful. Elegant. Innocent, like an angel. This was her beauty. It was honestly a refreshing splash of cold air on his face.

This was what made her her. Who was he to impose species norms on her, when he himself was a rebel?

He was a cat who donned _boots_ , for crying out loud.

She unhurriedly picked the silk up from the floor to wear them again. "Do you really think this makes me...different...from all the other cats you've met?"

He looked the other way and tapped at the hilt of the sword on his belt as he chuckled. "Well, honestly, yes."

The silence that followed made him look back at her again, but he was only met by a hurt expression that told him that she took it the other way.

"N-No!" he blurted the word for the second time in five minutes. This...was severely unfair. Why was he the only one being repeatedly flustered by each turn in the conversation? Alright _fine_ , maybe he deserved it for starting this in the first place, but still. "I do not mean it that way, Dulcinea. Really, I should not have asked you that stupid question about your clothes in the first place. I was out of the line."

She was strange, and funny, and most of the time simply downright _weird_ , but he would not have her any other way.

Her eyes widened. There were so, so many things she could express with those large sapphire eyes of hers, it baffled him every single time. "Really? Why?"

He burst out laughing. "Well...because it was a ridiculous question! It is stupid of me to only realize this now, honestly." He was shaking his head. " _I_ wear a hat and a belt and a pair of boots, which is not at all viewed as normal in the feline world. So I, of all people, do not have the right to call you out for being different. No one does. I am sorry."

"It's okay. You were simply curious behind the story of my fashion sense. And besides," she grinned, not quite so innocently now, "I'd like that favour returned."

"Huh?" he sputtered dumbly as he watched her approach him.

"I'd like you," she said, once right in front of him, pointing a finger to each article of his attire as she enumerated them, "to tell me the story _of_ your hat, _and_ your belt, _and_ your boots." She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, looking satisfied. "It would only be fair, wouldn't you say?"

Ah...he blinked back in surprise. So, this was what she wanted? Information?

He grinned, impressed.

Where had this angel learned to be so deceptive?

Lowly, he drawled, "Fine, you sly little tigress." She arched an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and reverted to his normal voice. "Fine, I shall tell you later. Anyway, I came here to pick you up for lunch. Come." He offered her a paw and she gigglingly put hers over his. He then led her out of the classroom with him.

"Let us be different. Together."

The instant he opened the door, however—

Señora Zapata, Pajuna, Señora Igualdemontijo, and a couple of other women in town he never chanced to know the name of, yelped as they suddenly spilled onto the floor and tumbled ungracefully on top of each other before the two cats. The spies groaned and rubbed their necks uncomfortably, then nervously chuckled when they met Puss’ green eyes tersely staring down at them.

"Very cunning," he dryly commented, and Dulcinea could only giggle as he led the both of them out of there. Let them talk, he thought. Let them gossip.

Dulcinea need only wear herself.

* * *

**7**  
_naked._


End file.
